


let the stars go out tonight

by ToriCeratops



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arson, Bodyguard Eddie Diaz, Canon-Typical Violence, Chim gets hurt, Eddie's canonical hatred of Hildy, M/M, Mentions of spousal abuse, Movie Star Evan Buckley, Past Abuse, Poor Life Choices, Regret, Stalking, because Chim always gets hurt, the bodyguard au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-23 07:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: Former private security and personal bodyguard to the wealthy elite, Eddie Diaz is struggling in his new role as single dad.  Working for his own father isn't exactly going as planned and he feels like he's drowning.Until Bobby Nash brings him an offer, and a payday, it would be stupid to pass up.Someone has their cross hairs set on Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hollywood's hottest up and coming A-lister, and Bobby wants the best to help keep him alive.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twice_before_Friday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/gifts), [holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/gifts).



> I was scrolling through tik-tok and came across someone singing I Will Always Love You.  
> So I turn to my girlfriend and go "You know what I wanna watch? The Bodyguard." (The 1992 movie)  
> To which she replied, "I have never seen that...."  
> So four hours later we had watched it and this beast was started because I need _all The Bodyguard AUs_ please and thank....

_let the stars go out tonight_

_‘cause I can see them in your eyes_

_and I wanna love you_

_even if my heart would break_

* * *

  
  
  
  


On a sound-stage in Los Angeles, just south of Santa Monica Boulevard, a crew celebrates a once in a lifetime occurrence.

Principal filming has finished an entire day ahead of schedule.

There will, of course, be ADR sessions, stunt additions, VFX work, and probably a few re-shoots once their editors (and executives) get their opinionated hands on things. But the complicated and logistical nightmare work is done. Somewhere in their terabytes worth of recordings is a movie they all know they are going to be proud of.

So, they feast. They feast on keto friendly snacks and sugar-free drinks. They bring in a cake from the director’s favorite vegan bakery on fifth street. (There are two of them to choose from.)

Howie is on the phone with two different late night coordinators, already using the sudden free space in Buck’s schedule to find a few interview spots. It’s never too early to start getting word out, and he’s already been promised a few choice clips.

Hen and her wife Karen - the assistant production manager - are roaring in laughter with the hair and make up team while silently coordinating a last minute get away on their phones.

Bobby is at Buck’s side, congratulating him on another job well done - praise that the actor soaks up with more pride than he would a dozen award nominations. Bobby will only stay until his wife’s patrol shift is over, dying to surprise her with an unexpected date night.

And once Bobby is gone, Evan Buckley does what Evan Buckley does best.

Even better than his award winning acting.

Buck flirts.

If he sees an adult with a pulse and at least mild interest in what he has to offer he turns the charm up to eleven and has the time of his life.

In his contract - that Howie always expertly negotiates on his behalf - there is a clause way deep down in the fine print that allows for one hour and thirty minutes each day of filming for rest and a mental reset. For this particular project he has always, without fail, been in his trailer and napping by 3:15pm.

A man has to have his beauty rest, after all.

But today, he does not retreat for a mid-afternoon siesta.

Instead, at 3:30 pm on the dot, a small device comes to life below his empty bed, instantly engulfing it in white hot flames.

At first, it spreads slowly. But soon, seemingly in the blink of an eye, it has spread through every inch of the space that has been left empty, today, entirely by chance.


	2. Decisions

“Daaaaaaaad!”

The clock is mocking him.

6:25

Five minutes.

He had five minutes left.

“Get up, Dad!”

Eddie groans and sinks a little further down into his warm, comfortable bed, wiping both hands down his face.

There is silence for only a beat.

Then a soft knock on his door.

Christopher doesn’t wait for a response before poking his head in, big smile plastered on his face that doesn’t stop Eddie from glaring at his son.

“You… you promised pancakes before my test today.”

Fuck.

He had.

And he forgot.

Pancake mornings have to be planned for. He has to get up early not just because they take time to cook, but because after they have to CLEAN. Christopher does well on his own, and Eddie encourages his independence, but pancakes are just a big, sweet, sticky mess.

“Yeah, I did Bud.” He’s going to be late to work.

Again.

“Go get all your stuff ready for school and I’ll get to cooking, alright?”

“Okay, Dad.”

Christopher disappears with a loud bang of the door that is entirely unintentional.

For thirty seconds Eddie just lays there, staring at the ceiling. 

Counting down.

His alarm gets half a buzz before he slams his palm down on it and finally rolls out of bed with a long, drawn out moan.

If he skips his shower he can save some of his morning schedule…

Maybe just make pancakes for Christopher…

He can grab a powerbar to eat in the car...  


Eddie curses when he gets to the kitchen and realizes he had also forgotten to set up the coffee maker the night before. Despite running late, nothing gets in the way of his coffee. So he takes a moment to do what he should have done before bed and sets it to brew. 

The mixing bowl gets placed on his latest stack of past due notices. As he dumps in the powder and milk and attacks it with a whisk, Eddie goes through his mental list of essentials.

Mortgage is paid. That’s always paid first. After that is utilities - no more than a month behind. Gotta keep the roof over head and the water and lights on. He’s got an envelope of cash for groceries, and Christopher’s after school care has been paid for the month. He wishes he could afford one a little better, more suited to his needs though. 

After that…

Well.

It all gets paid when he can spare a few. The medical bills. The debt that piled up over the years. His car note. (He’d stopped paying Shannon’s car note two months after she left them. His credit’s in the tank already, what’s another bad mark?)

Pancake batter sloshes out of the bowl, splattering across the counter.

His chest tightens.

He bites his lip. 

Takes a deep breath.

“Why do tests exist, anyway?” Christopher’s voice helps him relax enough Eddie can refocus on actually cooking. He can clean that up when he cleans everything else. He was just stirring the whisk too fast. Maybe he doesn’t even need to clean it up this morning. Or even do the dishes! He could be a little less late if - 

“Dad?” Christopher is sitting at the table with a curious look on his face.

“Sorry. Uh,” Eddie pours the first ladle of batter into the pan and listens for a moment as it starts to sizzle. “If they didn’t test you from time to time, how would they know you actually learned anything?”

“They could just ask.”

“Well, they kinda are, kid.” He swirls the pan around until the pancake moves freely then flips it with a quick flick of his wrist - much to Christopher’s delight.

“No. They need to say ‘Christopher, did you learn all about the jobs done by the, the three branches of government?’ And I’d say ‘Yes!’ But, but they want me to prove it.”

By the time Christopher is done with his mini-rant Eddie’s got a good chest deep chuckle going and is smiling at the first pancake he slips onto the plate. It’s easy, for a bit, to joke with his son and forget the stack of unpaid bills, or the job his dad bent several rules to get for him, that he is completely unqualified for, or that if he keeps being late even the admitted nepotism that got him the job in the first place won’t be enough to save his paycheck. 

As expected, post pancakes clean up takes quite a bit of time. Eddie does leave the dishes unrinsed in the sink and the splatter of batter on the counter. Somehow he manages to convince Christopher to let him help clean up the syrup all over his fingers and chin without too much of a fuss. Even still, by their usual ‘walking out the door’ time, Chris is just heading to his room to finish getting himself dressed for school.

Despite his internal tension, Eddie does his best not to let it show. This morning’s rush is entirely his fault and no way is he giving Christopher any flak about it. So as they load up into the car and head onto the highway he keeps making jokes, occasionally quizzes him on his test material, and only curses at traffic twice.

Christopher walks through the front doors of his school just as the bell is ringing. 

At the very least, he won’t see any repercussions for Eddie forgetting his promises.

Eddie - on the other hand.

Traffic is never that great heading north through town this time of day but for some reason it is at an exceptional crawl this morning.

He curses a lot more frequently without a nine year old in the back seat.

Ten minutes after he sits at his desk, Eddie wishes he still had the privacy of his car to shout into the void. 

“You’re late again, Edmundo.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “And you’re here to remind me about it again.” He doesn’t even bother to turn and look at his dad, who only ever comes to see him at work when he’s done something wrong.

“I’m just looking out for you. If…”

“If you would let your team set their own hours or - god forbid - work from home every once in a while, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Because then he could schedule himself to come in an hour after Christopher’s first bell rings instead of fifteen minutes later, not take a lunch, and still be at after-school care in plenty of time to pick him up every day. 

But…

“I told you, we are a professional workplace. There has to be a set of standards and expectation of discipline.”

No one in their office even talks to customers. Nor are they on any kind of daily set time tables. It’s all research and number crunching with deadlines based on whatever project they’re working on.

Eddie doesn’t mind discipline - or hell, long hours. He thrives on both. This is just overbearing control.

“Won’t happen again,” he lies, still not looking back. There’s no point in making his argument again. Not when he’s been making it to a brick wall since his dad offered him the position. Instead, he gets logged in, pulls up the spreadsheet he had been working on the day before, and keeps looking for anomalies. It takes a while, but eventually he hears a sigh and then fading footsteps.

As soon as he knows his dad is gone, Eddie takes the pen from the top of his keyboard and throws it across his cubicle as hard as he can. It embeds itself right next to half a dozen other writing utensils. The cubicle wall wobbles, and a month's worth of folders crashes to the ground.

For now, he just leaves it there.

Casualty of life.

By lunchtime Eddie’s day hasn’t exactly gotten any better. Someone in the staff accountant pool apparently quit without warning the day before so Donna - who sits next to him - has been pulled to that team and left all her projects with Eddie. As sweet as the woman is, he hasn’t got the first clue how to interpret ANY of the work she’s done so far. It looks like he’s going to have to start from scratch. 

When all the work he’s done in the last hour vanishes in a computer glitch it takes every ounce of his willpower not to toss the thing out of the fourth floor window. 

Instead, he stands up, keeps his fists clenched tight to his sides, and walks with as much calm as he can muster toward the stairs. One step at a time. 

Down.

Through the back door.

Into the alley.

Where he lets out a muffled scream that gets him an odd look from the smokers that usually claim this area. 

What he really needs is to punch something. Or shoot something. Either way the tension has built up and built up and he’s got no where for it to go. No outlet. No…

He jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket, completely derailing his train of thought. 

It’s a text from Donna.

> _ Some guy here looking for you. _
> 
> _ Never seen him before. _

Eddie curses and bolts back inside while all the worst case scenarios flash into his head at once.

Some unknown manager here to fire him so his dad doesn’t have to.

A lawyer telling him Shannon wants custody despite having zero contact for over a year.

Social services worried about his care of Christopher - again.

The second he sees the man standing at his desk he knows it is definitely not the third option.

That suit is way too expensive for a social worker. Probably for any lawyer Shannon could afford either, come to think of it.

Which leaves one heart crushing option.

“Edmundo Diaz?”

The guy’s got short cropped, sandy hair and a kind, almost fatherly face. There are lines around his eyes that tell Eddie he smiles a lot - even if he isn’t right this second.

“Kinda depends on who’s asking.”

“Bobby Nash.” Nash sticks out his hand and Eddie takes it in a firm and quick shake. It’s not a name Eddie recognizes from any internal calls or emails, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. “I was hoping to catch you for your lunch break but if this is a bad time maybe we can schedule something for later this afternoon.”

For a second Eddie considers brushing the guy off. If he doesn’t work for the company, whatever he’s selling, Eddie sure as hell isn’t buying. But then he sees the pile of folders still on his floor and the error message still blinking obnoxiously on his computer screen.

“You know what? I think right now is a perfect time, Mr. Nash.” He clasps the man on the shoulder and gestures back toward the elevator. “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

“Bobby,” the man says kindly as they move at a brisk pace.

“Eddie,” he offers in return just as the elevator doors slide quietly open. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I have been looking for you?”

They step in and the doors close, leaving the two men alone. Without turning to face him, Eddie answers. “At this point, you’re either here to tell me a relative I didn’t know about has left me - and hopefully only me - a nice little fortune or you’re from head office here to fire me. And maybe my pops too for hiring me in the first place.”

“Are those my only two options?” Bobby’s lips quirk ever so slightly up as they stare at each other in the reflection of the highly polished doors.

Eddie shrugs.

“Why don’t we go with option ‘c’? I’m here to talk to you about a job.”

The elevator lurches to a halt, the doors sliding open in an instant. Bobby steps out. But, caught in a moment of shock, Eddie almost gets left behind in the car as the doors begin to close.

“A job? You’re here in person to talk about a job?” Eddie balks, catching up just as Bobby makes it out into the bright Texas sun. “You couldn’t have called? Sent a text? Email? Hell, send me a message on LinkedIn?”

Bobby raises a single brow as Eddie speaks. He responds. “Would you have answered?”

Eddie opens his mouth to say yes but snaps it shut with a huff. He makes an effort to be an honest man, after all. 

“That’s what I thought,” Bobby says, finally smiling fully. “Plus,” he adds after a beat. “I didn’t have your phone number.” 

There’s a small plaza just a couple buildings down with a fountain and benches so Eddie automatically begins heading in that direction and they move at a sedate pace.

Bobby keeps talking.

“What I did have was your name, highly recommended, by people I trust and respect.”

A sinking feeling curls around Eddie’s gut. He knows where this is headed and that it is a waste of time. Because there’s only one thing anyone would recommend HIM for.

“I hate to break it to you, but your recommendations are out of date. I don’t do that any more. Retired just over a year ago.”

Evidently Bobby is well aware. “Not because of any injuries or problems on the job, though. In ten years of duty no one you protected even got seriously injured, though there were plenty of attempts.” 

Which is true. Eddie was GOOD at his job. Hell, it’s probably the only thing he’s ever been good at. He was a shit husband, bad son, and jury’s still out on his parenting abilities. “Look, I appreciate that you came all the way out here from… wherever… but injuries and losses aren’t the only reason people get out of that line of work. I’ve got a kid and - “

“Four grand a week.”

Eddie nearly trips over his own feet and stares at Bobby, who continues. 

“Four grand a week plus a nice bonus once the police have the perpetrator behind bars and my guy is still alive.”

Four grand a week is a lot of money.

Enough that even if he was only on the job two he’d still have enough to fully catch up on his utilities, past due fees, and pay off one of the older medical collections.

“You’re really desperate aren’t you?”

“I am. For the best,” Bobby says without hesitation. Then he adds, “Buck is… he’s special. And he is important to me and his family. And he is in serious danger.”

There is moisture in Bobby’s eyes and the slightest tremor in his voice so Eddie knows the man is sincere. But everyone who has a loved one in danger gets scared. Eddie has responsibilities, and recommendations of his own he could make to other, more available bodyguards. 

But… four grand is  _ a lot of money _ .

“Wait.” He stops and holds up a hand after playing Bobby’s words back through his head again. “Buck. Why does that name sound familiar?”

Bobby smirks. “Evan Buckley. He -” 

“The actor? You want me to go to Hollywood?” Protecting the wealthy and highly influential political figures was never a walk in the park, but he’d always stayed away from actual celebrities. It’s very difficult to protect someone who literally lives IN the spotlight. Bobby nods and seems like he’s going to continue to make his case, but Eddie beats him to it.

“Five grand a week.” He expects more pushback.

Not a smile.

“Done. And fifty when it’s all said and through.”

Eddie blinks.

Forget catching up on bills and paying off debt. With that kind of payday he could get out from under his parents’ thumb, which is the only thing keeping him afloat right now. He could follow his own dreams AND get Christopher the more specialized care he needs at times.

But he would have to be AWAY from Christopher. And he promised himself and his son he wouldn’t do that anymore.

He’d promised Shannon, too, but it hadn’t been enough. 

“I’m assuming you need an answer pretty fast.” Eddie’s voice sounds distant even to himself.

“My flight back is the last one out tonight. But I’ve got a ticket with your name on it for the 8am tomorrow morning.”

Right.

So less than twenty-four hours to make a decision that could seriously change his life forever.

Wonderful.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Updates on Fridays!


End file.
